Gym Time isn’t Really Working Out

I joined a gym. Well, I’m still within the trial period so I haven’t fully committed to them yet, but let me tell you how my first few days have gone so far.

Glorious. Absolutely freaking glorious.

I’ve never been big time into working out, but you know what I am into? Alone time. And that is what this gym offers me.

This is my second attempt at losing weight and getting hot fit.

The first attempt involved boot camp classes at 5am. The fitness instructor would come right to my neighborhood where a couple of other moms and I would meet in total early morning darkness and get our asses kicked. I’d be home by 6:10am and Rambo would leave for work around 6:30am. Perfect right? In theory. Yes.

In real (mommy) life? Not at all. Waking up at 4:30am to work out wasn’t all that difficult for me. Waking up at 4:30am when I had been up at 1, 2:30, 3:30 and then again at 4am was brutal. A teething baby and a toddler transitioning into his own room does not allow a good night’s rest.

I missed a lot of classes. I even missed the make up classes. I was paying money to be fat when I could sit at home and be fat for free.

So I quit.

And I was sad. I missed my one solid hour of grunting, groaning and crying out in pain with other women who understood the trials of motherhood. All I had to do was show up with sleepy eyes and mumble “teething baby” and I got nods of sympathy and words of encouragement. It was social time. It was my one hour of not being “Ammu” and just being ME.

So I went back to being sleepless and cranky. I yelled at my kids. I was a stressed out, frazzled mess. The laundry wasn’t done, the house was a disaster and dinner was always late. I was an overwhelmed Ammu, because Me didn’t exist. Does that make sense? Good because I’m not going to explain it.

So that brings us to this week. My first week at the nice, expensive gym. The gym that we really can’t afford. The gym that has a nice child care center that makes me wish I really could afford it.

The first day I left both the kids at the child care center for a total of sixty minutes. In one hour I did a 30-minute elliptical work out and a quick shower. Oh, let me tell you about the shower.

I was in a shower stall surrounded by about ten or fifteen other stalls filled with women all showering in close proximity to me. It was the most private shower I’ve had in the last four years.

Gym time isn't really working out
Glorius showers feel like this

There were no babies crying. No toddler faces pressed up against the glass asking me when I was coming back. It was my first real shower in so long.  Anyway, the shower was wonderful and I returned back to the child care center to pick up my boys within one hour of dropping them off.

I find the 3-year-old standing by the front door. The lady working there informed me he had been standing there for the last ten minutes waiting for me to return. The baby was asleep. Asleep with tear stained cheeks. He had basically cried himself to sleep.

Do you guys understand Mommy guilt? This is why Mom’s have such a hard time taking care of themselves. I felt terrible. Here I was on my post-workout high, feeling fresh and clean and all zen-like from my super private shower and my kids were abandoned and lonely and crying and traumatized!

My heart sank. We can’t afford this gym AND my kids hate this place. Day one of trial period and the answer was clear.

The rest of the day went fantastic, though. Dinner was on time, the laundry was done. I played with the kids. There was no yelling.  Maybe because I felt so bad for leaving them, or maybe because I had enough energy to get everything done and wasn’t stressed out.

So I went again.

The second day the baby didn’t have tear stained cheeks but the 3-year- old did.

I asked him why he had been crying. Maybe some kid was mean to him or something.

“Because I missed you”.

Ugh. Cue the sound of my heart breaking and the guilt flooding back in.

Again, the rest of the day went well. Dinner was served on time, the laundry was done and I even got the kitchen floor mopped. No yelling. Lots of playing. I was a fun, happy Ammu.

Even Rambo noticed the difference. I wasn’t really getting my social time in but I didn’t mind. I’m quite the introvert anyway and this time alone really energized me.

So for now, I’ve decided to continue going. Eventually, I’m supposed to get over the guilt and the kids will get used to it right? Aren’t kids super adaptable?

Hopefully, I’ll keep this up. Fun, happy, HOT Ammu is on her way.

 

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